


House Plants Make the Best Wingmen

by starchaser22



Series: Seven Day Fic Challenge [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, Superman (Comics)
Genre: Fic Challenge, House Plants, Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, Party, SuperBat, im so tired so i know the grammar in this is all messed up but im lazy, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starchaser22/pseuds/starchaser22
Summary: Prompt:"I really don't want to talk to important people at this fancy party, so I'm hiding behind this tall house plant, but you had the same idea, so now we're bickering over who gets to hide behind the big leaf."





	House Plants Make the Best Wingmen

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I changed the prompt around a little. It was so good, I felt like I just couldn't do it justice.

Clark hates these fancy parties.

He's a reporter. He likes writing. He doesn't mind going to crime scenes, taking notes, interviewing witnesses.

He just hates the socialization that  _ specifically _ comes with parties. It's almost like his boss knew this; Clark was always assigned the largest, most extravagant parties to cover.

There could be benefits. If Lex Luther was at one, for example, Superman could keep an eye on him, but that was a rarity. More often than not, he was tasked with a Gotham's most eligible bachelor and billionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was actually an okay guy. He was friendly, ran several large charities, and was very family-oriented. Even with the size of his parties, it was quite rare to attend one and  _ not  _ run into one of the Wayne kids.

The current party Clark was at was actually only  _ hosted _ at the Wayne Manor. It was meant to be for Gotham's police, a type of congratulations for decrease in crime (everyone knew that Batman probably had more to do with it, but the police in Gotham are given enough trash as it is). The event was targeted to last late into the night.

Clark was just going to stay for the speeches.

As big as the mansion is, Clark knows his way around fairly well. He can easily locate each of the bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the main hall where the event would be centered. But Clark's favorite part about Wayne Manor was not the elegantly laced curtains, nor the antique grandfather clock that hadn't worked for years. No, Clark's favorite location was a plant.

This wasn't just any plant. It was located near the entrance to the main hall so that Clark could watch the influx of guests come in behind it's big leaf.

No, really.

This leaf was well over the length of Clark's leg, hiding anyone behind it with minimal effort. The smaller branches and leaves did the rest, perfectly trimmed so they didn't make a mess, but not so perfect that the plant caught the attention of those passing by.

No one would ever notice someone behind it.

That is, unless one was looking for them.

And as it so happens, someone is hiding behind the plant. Someone  _ besides  _ Clark.

Um, that’s not okay?

“Excuse me?” Clark clears his throat, straightening his posture as he walks over to the plant. He didn’t know what he was going to say.  _ “Hey, you’re in my designated antisocial Wayne Manor hiding spot. I had it first, as my DNA is all over this corner. Move, please.”  _ Yeah, because that doesn’t sound crazy.

Whatever Clark was going to say died in his throat the second he peeked around the plant, because standing there, scrolling through his dimly lit phone with his head ducked, was none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

But, of course, Clark couldn’t sneak up on him. As soon as he noticed who it was, Bruce looked up, watching his strides across the floor with a growing smile on his face. “Good evening.”

“Um, sorry, but what are you doing here?” Clark blurted out, not thinking first.

Bruce’s smile turned more sly, a type of smirk forming. “I live here, Mr. Kent.”

Clark’s heart rate sped up as he gestured vaguely to the area around him. “But this is your party. Shouldn’t you be socializing?”

“Shouldn’t you?” He shot back, full-on smirk now. Noticing Clark’s sudden loss for words and gaping mouth, he added, “This is my house. Do you really think I wouldn’t know about the key hiding spot?”

“Of course you would  _ know-” _ Clark mumbled, shifting his feet as he suddenly felt quite foolish. 

Bruce chuckled. “Even I need moments alone sometimes, Mr. Kent. I hid this spot for myself. You must be very observant to have taken notice.” His eyes glistened, dimly reflecting the phone, screen still lit in his hands.

“So, uh, it’s a very lovely party,” Clark tried to regain his dignity. He always made a point to compliment the host, anyways. He may as well just use it in his advantage to cover up his embarrassment.

Bruce just chuckled again, amusement shown with the upturn of his eyebrows, the crinkles around his eyes. “Yes, it is. The police in Gotham just don’t get enough credit, in my opinion. It is very easy to take them for granted. I always love to show my appreciation. You can use that as a quote, by the way,” Bruce gestured to Clark’s pen, clipped around his shirt pocket.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Mr. Wayne-” Clark fumbled around his pockets, searching for the matching notepad.

“Please,” he smiled, “Call me Bruce.”

“Yes, Bruce, sir,” Clark was just grasping for straws, trying not to embarrass himself more, while doing just that.

Bruce was radiating, his kindness and charisma like an aura around him. Why did Clark have to be so determined to hide behind this plant? Why?

“Now, if you will excuse me, I really must get back to my party,” Bruce said, pushing aside a few leaves to step out from behind the plant. “The plant’s all yours, but I do recommend not staying here all night.” Then, with an almost mischievous glare, he added, “I’ll make sure to save you a dance,” before turning around, expensive suit jacket swaying behind as he paced across the floor.

Clark felt heat at the tips of his ears, which was ridiculous, but then again, who  _ wouldn’t _ swoon over Bruce Wayne?

**Author's Note:**

> I know that, with this fic challenge, I'm supposed to be posting them everyday, but it's kind of turned into, like, every day and a half, or something.


End file.
